


Noticeable to None

by Keri T (Keri_1006)



Series: Episodes [7]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Episode: s01e07 Death Notice, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keri_1006/pseuds/Keri%20T
Summary: Missing scene from Death Notice.
Relationships: Ken Hutchinson/David Starsky
Series: Episodes [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1046184
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19





	Noticeable to None

Starsky gazed at the dark night sky and listened to the wind trying to drown out the sounds of Hutch’s guitar inside the cottage. Hutch had been on his fourth request from their eager guests when Starsky had stepped out on the porch to get some fresh air.

It was a good feeling to have wrapped up this case. Sonia’s murder, followed so closely on the heels of Ginger’s, had been infuriating—such stupid, senseless waste of two young women—and nerve-wracking. He and Hutch had moved fast to prevent a third murder, but even though they were fast, they hadn’t missed any clues, or let Anton get sent to jail for crimes he hadn’t committed. There were more wins than losses from this case, and that was a good feeling. A soft rustling interrupted his satisfied reflections, and he turned his head.

“Starsky, I think you’re gonna need to rescue your partner right about now,” Huggy said while closing the front door behind him. “Those girls are behavin’ like frisky kitties and tryin’ to turn our blond brother into a scratching post.”

Starsky grinned. He’d been to enough gatherings with Hutch to be able to picture the scene perfectly. Women were easily attracted to Hutch, but let him play his guitar and they often turned to jelly. “Is Francine tryin’ to help him play?” he asked. “That’s usually one of the moves the fairer sex puts on him.” He wanted to laugh at the image that presented in his brain. “Don’t worry, Huggy, his guitar is his protection. As long as he holds it across his lap, what harm can they do?”

“I don’t know, they looked pretty determined, but if you’re not worried about his virtue, ain’t none of my business,” Huggy said. “I’ve done my duty.”

“Did you do the dishes, too? I saw you headed to the kitchen with Anton. I figured if I came out here you two would get it all done and I wouldn’t have to offer to help.”

Huggy snorted. “Am I, or am I _not_ , a guest?”

“Anton’s a guest; you’re Huggy Bear.”

“Well, that’s true,” Huggy said and nodded. “The one and only original Huggy Bear, who did offer to help the dude out, but I was pish-poshed right on out of the kitchen.”

“Pish-poshed?” Starsky asked. “You know, some of your word choices are dubious at best.”

“I didn’t choose the words, Starsky, Anton did, and he was flappin’ a dish towel at me, too. This bear knows when to bounce.”

“I’ll lay you odds that when he’s done, Hutch’s kitchen will be cleaner than, well, I can’t think of a good comparison, but it’ll be really clean,” Starsky said. “Anton’s a sweet guy, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Huggy agreed, and then rubbed his stomach. “And a damn fine cook, too. I always enjoy it when you and your partner decide to entertain. Tonight’s party has been especially interesting. Eclectic, even.”

“You’re really rollin’ with the impressive words tonight, Hug,” Starsky said, with a wink for his friend. “Eclectic, huh?”

“What would you call a party made up of strippers and cops? I call it eclectic. It was also just funky enough to be fun.”

“You’re not a cop—or a stripper, unless you’ve been holding on to a big secret,” Starsky said. “So, we had bar owners, and—”

“Strip club owners,” Huggy supplied. He turned to face Starsky and arched a brow. “Do you still wanna challenge my word choices?”

Starsky thought about that for a second. “Nah, you’ve convinced me; it was eclectic,” he said. “I’ll have to tell Hutch that, he loves to be avant-garde.”

“He’s one unique cat, that’s for sure, but then you’re not exactly run-of-the-mill, either, so I guess you two were made to be partners,” Huggy said lightly, then he dropped his voice. “He’s lookin’ good…but is he _doing_ good?”

Starsky felt himself tense, knowing exactly what Huggy was referring to. The list of people who knew the truth about what Hutch had recently been put through was small, and wouldn’t get any bigger thanks to their captain. It was still fresh, though, and if he worried about answering questions, even from someone like Huggy who was asking out of genuine caring, what would it be like for Hutch to be reminded of the worst time in his life? He focused on relaxing his shoulders before he spoke.

“You know, Hug, I appreciate you asking. I especially appreciate that you asked _me_ ,” Starsky said, looking Huggy squarely in the eyes. “It would probably be hard for Hutch to answer that question.”

Huggy shook his head and raised a hand. “Give me some credit, Starsky! I’ve got more secrets than the Pentagon, and I don’t take confidential information lightly, you dig?”

Starsky instantly felt contrite. “I know you don’t. I shouldn’t have said that, I’m just still—”

“You’re just still being overly protective, and I get it. You watched him run Hell’s own gauntlet to get clean. And you bein’ you and all…it’s only natural,” Huggy said, and then gave Starsky’s hip a little bump with his own. “But, is that goin’ okay on the job?”

Starsky nodded and felt a surge of pride swell inside him. “Oh, yeah, we’re at full strength on the job, Huggy, and he watches my back as closely as I watch his, just like always.”

“So, since you didn’t really answer my question, from that last statement I can assume he’s doin’ good? How long has he been back to work?” Huggy asked. “I’ve only seen you two once or twice in the last few weeks, when you needed some choice information.”

“He’s been back full-time for sixteen days, which is pretty damn amazing when you consider it’s only been about three and a half weeks since we were getting him through withdrawal.”

“Yeah,” Huggy said. “Man, that was rough, between you and me I wasn’t sure—”

“I was,” Starsky said sharply. “I never had a doubt. He’s strong. You should’ve seen him on this last case—he was scaling walls like a mountain goat; skipping the full use of ladders when he could just jump six feet to the ground. He’s strong physically _and_ mentally. As strong as ever.”

Huggy nodded. “Yep, like I said he looks good. I guess I was just wonderin’ how well he’s handling everything else, but I suppose he’s got you for all of that, huh? All that…emotional stuff? The baggage. Did you come up with some unorthodox way to help him?” +

Starsky took a deep breath. He’d wager a guess they were dealing with it in ways no other partners in their precinct would ever consider. Unorthodox? That didn’t come close to describing how he and Hutch were dealing with the baggage. Unorthodox… part of him wanted to shout that they were handling it in the way that worked for them. Being together, talking, affectionate…sexual…and that it was nobody’s damn business. He felt Huggy’s eyes boring into him, and a rush of heat started on his throat. Very sexual. Somehow Hutch’s recovery had turned their usually occasional, clandestine, fun, hot sex into almost a daily habit.

Knowing he was blushing made Starsky even more uncomfortable, and he waved at an imaginary moth, hoping to distract Huggy while he willed his face to cool down. Sex with Hutch was dangerous in thought as well as practice. Dangerous, and so wonderful. Sex with Hutch was… Starsky cut off that train of thought quickly, feeling worried. What if those thoughts showed in his expression? Then worry turned to anger and aggravation. Starsky felt aggravated at himself, Huggy, and his partner. But the sex had also seemed to help Hutch over the feelings of worthlessness and self-doubt that had lingered even as the memories of brutal withdrawal had started to weaken. Why was that so wrong? And why was it so wrong that they enjoyed each other sexually? That their powerful emotional bonds spilled over to the physical sometimes? This was one of the moments when Starsky felt rage at the closed-minded society they lived in, and their bullshit rules that he and Hutch had to negotiate.

Starsky shook his head, and felt Huggy’s eyes on him again, waiting for an answer. Huggy knew that Starsky would move mountains for his partner if necessary, and he’d known that long before the kidnapping and heroin had tried to destroy Hutch. Starsky had no clue if it was his own burdened conscience making him imagine that Huggy knew what was impossible for him to know, or if Huggy was just asking out of care and friendship…maybe even simple curiosity? Whichever it was, he would need to proceed cautiously, so Starsky chose his words carefully and spoke as casually as he could, swallowing back the conflicting emotions in his head.

“He’ll always have me to back him up, if that’s what you mean. No matter what. That’s what partners do.”

Huggy laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I think you and Hutch have redefined what partners do, but like I said, it’s good he’s got you to help him with the rough stuff, the baggage—all of that.”

Huggy’s comment caused Starsky’s heart to pound and he knew his suspicions were justified. He didn’t even care if Huggy was guessing, poking, or taking wild swings…or if it _was_ just paranoia on his part. He had to shut this down right now.

“He’s got _himself_ for all of that,” Starsky said, louder than he’d intended. He took a moment to make sure there was no irritation in his tone when he continued. “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit, Hug. With or without me, he was gonna put that crap in the past and move on with his life. Yeah, he needed me when I first found him…he needed you, too, if you remember…but since then? He’s got it covered. Handled. He doesn’t need me or anyone else. Just himself.”

Starsky knew he had delivered that with enough bravado to convince most people, but Huggy wasn’t most people. He’d be lucky if Huggy simply remained curious and not doubtful.

Huggy gave a little laugh. “Maybe we should ask the man himself? I’d lay you odds that Hutch would give the credit to you.”

“If he did, I’d set him straight,” Starsky said. “If he hadn’t wanted to put it behind him—get clean and stay clean—not a damn thing I did for him would have mattered.”

“Right, Starsky, you keep tellin’ yourself that story, but _I_ know you. If you thought Hutch wasn’t gonna shake that shit, you’d’ve had him on a plane bound for some island not on a map, and nobody would have heard from either of you until you had sweated him clean. Are you gonna try and tell me that’s not the damn truth?”

Starsky’s thoughts and emotions were crashing together in his head again, and all he knew right then was that he wanted this conversation over with. Again, he chose his words as carefully as he could. “All I can tell you is that police partners take care of each other, Huggy, and _that’s_ the damn truth. Now, how about we get back inside to the party?”

Without waiting to see if Huggy was following him or not, Starsky went back inside.

~*~

Huggy was right, Hutch was blanketed with Francine on one knee and Tammy draped over his shoulder. And who could blame them? Hutch was never handsomer than when he had his black turtleneck on, making his hair… Starsky silently swore at himself. This was definitely not the time for him to ruminate on Hutch’s beauty, or his sexual appeal. This was the time to start getting them both back on the road to safe living, where they wouldn’t be vulnerable to prying eyes or gossiping tongues that could hurt them badly. Hutch wasn’t able to think clearly about these things right now—not like Starsky could—so he’d have to protect them both. He plastered a big grin on his face and walked over to his partner and the girls.

“What’s shakin’ on this side of the room? You hogging these beautiful women, Hutch?” Starsky put his hands around Francine’s tiny waist as he spoke, physically lifting her off Hutch’s knee, and started the first step of his quickly devised, but very necessary plan. “I think it’s time for me and Francine to do a little dancing.”

Hutch stretched out his long legs with a little sigh, and Starsky saw he was more comfortable now that his knee was unoccupied. “Francine and Tammy were just telling me some great stories about their job, Starsk. You wouldn’t believe what these two little cuties have to put up with from men.”

“Men can be so obnoxious,” Starsky said, pulling Francine tightly against his body. “The things they say, the things they do…” Starsky boldly skimmed his hand over Francine’s rear. “They’re just obnoxious. Now, how about my dance?”

Francine pushed herself closer into Starsky. “I’d love to dance,” she said in an unmistakably seductive tone.

“Well, you two probably haven’t noticed, but there’s no music playing,” Hutch said, and rose to his feet. “However, I’ll be happy to put a record on, and then maybe Tammy and I can make some coffee for everyone.” Hutch smiled at the pretty girl and reached his hand toward her.

“No, no, I make coffee,” Anton said from the couch where he’d been talking to Huggy and Manny. “No one move, I do.”

“Anton, you’ve been waiting on us all night, and you’re our guest,” Hutch said. “You relax, I’ll make the coffee.”

“So honored to be guest,” Anton said. “So honored.”

“And we’re honored to have you.” Hutch’s smile was so sweet and appealing. Starsky loved Hutch’s smile. He loved Hutch’s mouth, and all the things Hutch could do with his mouth… his resolve wavered. Maybe he was overreacting to his conversation with Huggy. Maybe he and Hutch could have one more night together, and then tomorrow… Starsky banished those thoughts with more than a little effort. His nights with Hutch had to stop for a while. He knew that. Even if it made him ache inside. He looked away from his partner’s smile and redoubled his resolve.

“Tell you what, me and Hutch will make the coffee.” Starsky released Francine from his arms. “But I’ll be right back for that dance. Come on, Hutch.”

Starsky led the way to the kitchen with Hutch at his heels. When they reached the sink, Hutch’s sweet smile was back in place, only this time it was focused on him, and Starsky couldn’t look away. He offered a shaky smile of his own. “Um, we didn’t ask how many wanted coffee. Should I get a headcount?”

“No need,” Hutch said, and patted Starsky’s stomach. “I’ll just make a whole pot, then there’ll be enough for everyone who wants some.” Hutch turned the water on and grabbed the coffee pot, rinsing it out. He turned his head a little toward the living room, and then gave a short nod. “They’re already talking again out there. Fun group.”

“Yeah,” Starsky agreed. “Good people…you want me to get down mugs, or cups and saucers?”

“Cups and saucers. Get that bag of cookies out of the cupboard, too, and see if there’s any cream.”

“Those cookies are lousy,” Starsky said, putting a stack of saucers on the counter. “Do you really want to serve those to guests?”

“I didn’t eat any, so were they lousy just because they’re oatmeal and you wanted chocolate chip, or were they stale or something?”

“I wanted chocolate chip.”

“That’s what I thought,” Hutch said. “Did you find the cream?”

“Do you see me looking for the cream?” Starsky asked more sharply than he intended to. “I’m getting the cups,” he said in a kinder tone, but he managed to rattle the cups loudly and knew his nerves were getting the best of him.

“No problem, Starsk, I’ll look for it.” Hutch moved to the ice box and peered inside. “Yep, we have cream. That’ll make the coffee taste better, and then maybe we’ll be forgiven for the lousy cookies, huh?”

Starsky’s stomach was starting to churn. He had to tell him. “Yeah, um, Hutch—”

“You know,” Hutch interrupted, speaking in a low tone, “I wasn’t planning on making coffee before you suggested dancing. I was kind of hoping everyone would start clearing out by now. Everyone but you, of course.”

Hutch’s words made Starsky close his eyes briefly. He knew he’d just been given the perfect opening, and he also knew he had to say it now. He had to, even if it felt like he was about to deliver a rock-hard sucker punch to Hutch.

“Uh-huh, yeah, about that,” Starsky started, continuing to fuss with the cups to avoid looking at his partner. “I was actually thinking about seeing if Francine wanted, well, ya know, if Francine would be interested…” Enough beating around the bush. Starsky turned so that he could look Hutch in the eye. “I’m gonna ask Francine to come home with me tonight, Hutch.”

As he had expected, the sucker punch landed with deadly aim, and Hutch looked a little sick. Starsky had to dig deeply for more courage to go on speaking. “I think it’s a really good idea, you know. I think it’s time,” he continued hurriedly, wishing with all his heart that he didn’t have to hurt Hutch this way. “And I think if you go back out there and smile at Tammy again, she won’t be going anywhere tonight. She’s a real pretty girl, Hutch. Think about that; about how nice it might be to have a pretty girl in your bed again.”

Hutch nodded slowly, and his eyes were filled with pain. But he stood up a little straighter and Starsky could see the effort he was making to absorb the blow. Almost a minute passed before he spoke. “Okay, Starsk. If that’s really what you want to do tonight, then that’s what you should do.”

Please understand why Hutch, Starsky begged silently. Please. “It is, partner.”

Hutch nodded again, and looked away. “Okay, but you know what? It really is getting kind of late. I’ll finish in here, and why don’t you and Francine take off. You don’t really want any coffee, do you?”

Oh, Hutch. “No, not really. I think you’re right; I’ll go ask Francine if she’d like to leave with me and we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Okay.”

“Okay…and Hutch?”

“Yeah,” Hutch said, and turned to face him again.

“Please think about Tammy, okay? Please?”

“Sure, Starsky,” Hutch said quietly. “You have a good evening.” Hutch turned back to the coffee-making and Starsky knew he’d said the last he was going to say on the subject.

He couldn’t stop himself from squeezing Hutch’s arm before he slipped out of the kitchen. It only took a few whispered words in Francine’s ear to have her eagerly jump to her feet and sing out loud goodbyes to the room.

Starsky gathered their jackets and said his own goodbyes, before escorting Francine out the door and then settling her into the passenger seat—Hutch’s seat—of the Torino.

All he knew as he started the car, was that it was going to take some kind of miracle for his body to ignore what his heart was feeling and his brain was thinking, and actually be able to sexually perform tonight. The night he’d crushed his partner’s heart.

The end.


End file.
